"THE STORY OF RUTH."
"And, behold, Boaz came from Beth-lehem, and said unto the reapers, The Lord be with you. And they answered him, The Lord bless thee."
There are moments in the life of every virtuous man, when the vices and the enormities by which he is surrounded, and above all, the glaring deficiencies which he is compelled to remark, even in those "whom he hath delighted to honour," come back upon the mind with an overpowering force, and spread their disheartening influence over the whole train of his reflections. At such moments, when we have turned with disgust from the corruptions of human nature, and have almost been tempted to seek in "some boundless contiguity of shade," a retreat from their contaminating influence; it is peculiarly delightful to recur to some scene of virtuous enjoyment, or to disperse the gloom which has gathered around us by a reference to the simplicity of other times. While dwelling upon the records of ancient purity, we become conscious of a joyous complacency; the mind is elated in the contemplation of its own capability of happiness, and reposes with delight upon the recollection of those peaceful pleasures, which can only exist among a virtuous people.
There is, perhaps, no narrative to be found among the works of ancient or modern authors, upon which the man who has become weary of the follies of the world, can dwell with more soothing sensations, than upon the story of Ruth. It is not to the unrivalled beauty of its style, nor to the pathetic eloquence which it contains, nor to the affecting nature of its incidents, that it is indebted for its principal attractions. But it is in the delineations of the peculiar practices of a people, who, as yet, had not forgotten the characteristic simplicity of their fathers; and in the striking allusions to their habits of social intercourse, that we feel ourselves most deeply interested. Many have delighted to paint the pleasures of rural life in all their most glowing colours; they have dilated upon its real and its fancied enjoyments; and have laboured to represent it as divested of all that shall darken the lustre of native purity, or detract from the reverence of virtue. But it may well be doubted whether they have ever presented us with so engaging, and yet so perfectly natural a picture, as that which is to be found in the simple and unlaboured narrative of inspiration. In the very salutations between Boaz and his reapers, we seem to have an evidence of that happy equality, and that habitual piety, which are alike the concomitants of untainted simplicity, and the victims of luxury and corruption. "The Lord be with you," was the address of "a mighty man of wealth" to his reapers; "and they answered him, The Lord bless thee." These are doubtless to be considered as the accustomed salutations of the people; and they may frequently have carried with them nothing more than the idea of mere ceremony. But they were salutations which must have originated among a religious people; and it was a ceremony which must have been associated with all that is helpless and dependant in man, and all that is merciful and omnipotent in his Creator.
C.
Most of our readers will probably recollect the amiable and enterprising Elizabeth Fry, who has been for some time past, like the celebrated Howard, engaged in visiting the prisons of England. The peculiarity of the undertaking, for a female, and her unexpected success in drawing the attention of the wretched objects of her care, to something like their native dignity, have excited much interest in the public mind. A copy of the following letter, giving some account of her proceedings in Glasgow, was handed to us, with the privilege of publishing it.—Ed.
Communicated for the Rural Magazine.
Letter to Mrs. Fletcher, from a
friend in Glasgow.
Mrs. Fry's manner and voice are delightful; her communications, free and unembarrassed.—She met, by appointment, several of the magistrates, Mr. Erving, and a number of ladies, at Bridewell. She told them, with much simplicity, what had been done at Newgate; and proposed something similar, if practicable, in Glasgow.
She entered into very pleasant conversation with every one. All were delighted when she offered to speak a little to the poor women: but the Keeper of Bridewell said he feared it was a dangerous experiment; for that they never, but by compulsion, listened to reading, and were generally disposed to turn all into ridicule. She said she was not without fear of this happening; but she thought it would give pleasure to some, and would serve to show the ladies what she meant. The women, about a hundred, were then assembled in a large room; and when she went in, seemed astonished, misdoubting, and lowering. She took off her little bonnet, and sat down on a low seat, fronting the women; and looking round with a kind and conciliating manner, but with an eye that met every one, she said—"I had better just tell you what we are come about." She said "she had had to do with a great many poor women, sadly wicked; more wicked than any now present, and how they had recovered from evil."
Her language was often Biblical, always referring to our Saviour's promises, and cheering with holy hope those desolate beings. "Would you like to turn from that which is wrong? Would you like if ladies would visit you, and speak comfort to you, and help you to be better? Would you tell them your griefs? for they who have done wrong have many sorrows."
As she read them the rules, asking them always if they approved, they were to hold up their hands if they acceeded. At first we saw them down, and many hands were unraised; but as she spoke, tears began to fall. One beautiful girl near me, had her eyes swimming in tears; and her lips moved as if following Mrs. Fry's. An older woman, who had her Bible, we saw pressing upon it involuntarily, as she became more and more engrossed. The hands were now almost all ready to rise at every pause; and these callous and obdurate offenders were, with one consent, bowed before her. At this moment, she took the Bible, and read the parables of the lost sheep, and the pieces of silver, and the prodigal son.—It is not in my power to express the effect of her saintly voice, speaking such blessed words. She often paused, and looked at the "poor women," as she named them, with such sweetness, as won all their confidence, and she applied with a beauty and taste such as I had never before witnessed, the parts of the story—His father saw him when he was afar off, &c.—A solemn pause succeeded the reading. Then, resting the large Bible on the ground, we saw her on her knees before the women. Her prayer was soothing and elevating; and her musical voice, in the peculiar recitative tone of her sect. I felt it like a mother's song to a suffering child.
Communicated for the Rural Magazine.
Brandywine, 2d mo. 3, 1820.
Reuben Haines,
Esteemed friend—I avail myself of a leisure hour to communicate my opinion on the subject on which we had some conversation when thou wast at my house. I allude to the importance of a more general use of mill feed for cattle in the neighbourhood of cities and towns, where hay almost always commands a high price.
We will, in the first place, view the subject at the cost of the respective articles in your market at this time.—Shorts can now be had at 30 cents per double bushel, weighing about 35 lbs.
| 100 bushels of shorts, weighing 3500 lbs. neat, will cost | D.30 00 |
| 3500 wt. of hay, at 25 dolls. per ton, will cost | 39 12 |
| Difference, | D. 9 12 |
Here there is a difference of $9, 12 cents, in favour of shorts, in a given weight of each; but I am quite confident, in my own opinion, that, taking an equal weight of each, there is double the sustenance in the shorts; and if this opinion be correct, it shows the following important result:
| 7000 lbs. of hay, at 25 dls. per ton, would cost | D.78 25 |
| While 3500 lbs. of shorts, in which there is equal if not greater nutriment, would cost only | 30 00 |
| Gain in favour of shorts, | D.48 25 |
But it appears to me there is another important saving would result to the farmer, from the introduction of mill feed. It would enable him to keep his stock of horses at a great deal less expense than he now keeps them. They would be more healthy, and all his hay might be saved for the horned cattle. By a very slight mixture of shorts with cut straw, or cut corn-stalks, it would make very palatable food; and the result in this method, compared with foddering on hay, would be as follows.
One hundred bushels of shorts would be ample to mix with two tons of straw, and two tons of stalks.
| The shorts, as heretofore stated, would cost | D.30 00 |
| 2 tons of wheat, barley, or oat straw, at 5 dolls. per ton, | 10 00 |
| The corn-stalks are now generally put in the barn-yard: allow what paid for hauling them, say D.2 50 per ton, | 5 00 |
| Allow also for trouble in cutting the straw and stalks, | 10 00 |
| 55 00 |
The Weight of the foregoing as follows, viz.
| The shorts, | 3500 | lbs. | |
| 2 tons of straw, | 4480 | ||
| 2 tons of stalks, | 4480 | ||
| 12,460 | lbs. |
| An equal weight of hay, at the present price, 25 dolls. would cost | 139 25 |
| Difference, | D.84 25 |
Thou wilt readily perceive, without my dwelling on it, that the above method would answer equally well for store cattle as for horses. By the present mode the corn stalks are almost wholly lost, and a great proportion of the straw trodden under foot in the barn-yards. One benefit that would result from the change of feeding, and which must be obvious to every one, would be its enabling every farmer to keep a larger stock; and thus increase his manure,—the grand secret, after all is said, in farming well, and doing it to advantage.
If it is alleged that my calculation of hay is too high, it may be observed, that the shorts are also estimated at a price higher than they often command in the Philadelphia market. I have known them as low as 20 cents; and 25 cents is a very common price in the fall of the year. They may safely be put in bulk in the 11th mo. and will keep sweet until the ensuing spring.—I have thus hastily thrown my ideas together on this subject. If thou canst glean from them any thing of importance, I shall be glad.
Thy assured friend,
James Canby.